


Memory as Palimpsest:  Discuss in 5-7 Pages

by lcib



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-17 15:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14192424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcib/pseuds/lcib
Summary: After four years apart, Cat goes to a media studies conference and finds Kara in a dive bar.  A love letter to academia with superpowers.





	1. The Bar

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is basically a self-indulgent character study and dialogue experiment.
> 
> It is not, I repeat NOT, meant to be an accurate portrayal of someone with a perfect or photographic memory. I was just playing with what Kara's superpowers might be if they were translated to an academic setting. This story is just as fantastical as the show.

When she found Kara again, it was in a bar. She had claimed an entire booth, the cracked burgundy upholstery strewn with peanut shells, several shiny yellow Ticonderoga pencils and her old green jacket with the fur-lined hood. The table was covered in sheets of paper, a plate of picked-at fries doused in ketchup and two mostly-empty pitchers of beer. Sprawled half across the bench, half across the table, Kara stared up at her, mouth half open, her index finger pressed into her bottom lip like she was holding something back.

“What happened to the body being a temple?” Cat asked.

Kara’s mouth fell open further, she had a butterscotch candy on her tongue, and for a moment Cat thought she could no longer do it. “It was a garden,” Kara said. “I’m watering it.”

“I see you still don’t forget anything.”

Cat watched Kara’s eyebrows lower behind her dark sunglasses then she giggled. “Nope. There’s always room for more. The last time I saw you, you were wearing an oxblood blouse and tan corduroys with that silver ring he got you in Martha’s Vineyard and the dangly earrings with the stars, but now the last time I see you will be this – “ She rested her chin in her palm and stared at Cat over the tops of her sunglasses. “I like that color, it’s good with your eyes.”

“Kara, don’t.”

“Are you getting a drink?”

Cat sighed. “I think I’ll throttle you if I don’t.”

“Good.” Kara’s sunglasses snapped back up. “Can you get me another of these?” She waved at the clear plastic pitchers. “I have a tab. I’d offer to get yours, but you probably won’t let me.”

“Probably not.”

“If you ask nicely there’s a bottle of Glenlivet they keep under the bar for special occasions. But don’t bother if it’s Todd, he doesn’t know what that is.” Kara picked up her pencil and went back to scribbling.

Cat did not ask for the Glenlivet. She picked her way back to Kara’s table with a healthy pour of Johnny Walker Black and a new pitcher of Kara’s beer.

“Can I sit down?”

“Sure.” Kara swept a cascade of shells on to the floor and patted the cushion next to her. “I don’t do liquor when I’m alone,” she said, refilling her glass.

“Since when do you wear sunglasses inside?” Cat asked.

“Since I do,” Kara stumbled. “I just do.”

“You look like an idiot, take them off.”

There were dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise Kara was still herself. Without thinking, Cat reached out and pressed the tip of her finger into the scar above Kara’s eyebrow. Kara didn’t move away.

“Fell out of the hayloft at my cousin’s farm and landed on my face.”

“I remember,” Cat said. She took the biggest sip of whiskey she could stand and tucked her hand back in her lap. Kara grinned at the look on her face.

“I’ve been trying to guess exactly when Jonathon Wallace over there is going to have to go to the bathroom.” She gestured at a pale, stubble-faced boy with horn-rimmed glasses who was wearing his coat inside.

“Friend of yours?” Cat’s hand twitched towards Kara’s thigh, which was staring to spasm.

“He took my astronomy for dummies seminar and then wrote a story about me for his creative writing class,” Kara said. “I died in the end. Now I just like to mess with him.”

“I didn’t know you’d gotten into the humanities.”

“I haven’t. I was sleeping with the professor and she told me about it. She said my death was poetic.” Kara shrugged. “She’s tired of me now.” She held her beer with both hands and tilted her chin down to look up at Cat through her lashes like she was daring her to care.

“I bet you got tired of her first.”

Cat watched the hit land, but Kara smiled and looked away. “So he’s been drinking vodka tonics all night, this is his fourth. Todd has a pretty light pour, but you also have to consider what else Jonathon’s consumed and the size of his bladder.”

She forced herself to look away from Kara’s now wriggling leg and back at Jonathon Wallace. He was leaning forward, talking intensely at the girl on the stool next to him who was making desperate eyes at anyone who might save her. Cat wondered if Kara had factored that into her predictions.

“So when’s he going to go pee?”

“No idea,” Kara said. “Too many variables to calculate total accuracy. I love it when that happens.”

Her leg had reached full bounce and Cat couldn’t contain herself. She slammed her hand down on Kara’s thigh, holding it to the seat.

“Oh.”

“What happened to you?” Cat mostly failed to keep the fury out of her mouth. “You were the most promising student most of us had ever seen in our entire careers. You were extraordinary.”

“Oh don’t give me that crap,” Kara said, sounding just as mad. She made a note as Jonathon Wallace finished his drink and glared at Cat. “I’ve kept all of your promises – literal and figurative. You wanted extraordinary, I am extraordinary. I’ve developed a new kind of sunscreen that doesn’t bleach coral, I’ve revolutionized the way we study bees. I’ve won four major awards including one they made up just for me. I know you know about that because you wrote an article about it. The comment about how I overuse the word super was uncalled for, by the way, that’s a perfectly acceptable adjective. I’m super extraordinary. I’m doing two PhD programs at the same time. The only reason I’m not doing three is because even I have to sleep sometimes.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Sleeping?”

“Enough.” Kara shrugged. “Not with anyone if that’s what you were wondering.”

Kara’s thigh was flexing under her palm, but Cat didn’t move her hand. “I wasn’t.”

“Are you?” Kara asked.

“No,” Cat said. “Not at the moment. How long have you wanted to ask me that?”

“Since you came back with the drinks.” She grabbed Cat’s hand on her thigh and squeezed gently, putting it back in Cat’s lap. “I’m good.”

“Are you? You’re drinking cheap beer by yourself and speculating about the bladder capacity of an undergrad.” Cat took a sip of her whiskey and waited for Kara to look at her. She didn’t.

“So?”

“I know your work is fine, but please tell me you you’ve got more than that. Anyone?”

The muscles tightened in Kara’s neck. “I know everyone in this bar. Want to hear about them? You know I can do it.” 

“Friends, Kara.” There was a pause. She heard Kara take a breath and knew whatever she said next would be a lie so Cat pushed on, “I know you had people at NCIT, you were like three peas in a sexually confused pod.”

“You know where they are, they both work for you,” Kara said hollowly.

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“Did you hire them to keep in touch with me?” Kara said like it was something she’d already mulled over and decided.

“James Olsen has a Pulitzer.”

“So do you.”

Cat ignored her. “And Windows is the only one who can do anything right with my server system.” She waited for Kara to correct her. “I may have thought about it when I put them on payroll.”

Kara’s lips curved in a flash of triumph, then she drooped again. “Winn and I still text. James and I didn’t really survive trying to date when he still wanted his ex and I still wanted you.”

“That would explain why I thought he hated me for the first few months.”

“Yup.”

Kara drummed a beat on the table. “It’s really good to see you,” she said, quiet enough that Cat almost didn’t hear it over the Maroon 5 blasting through the speakers. Kara turned in her seat, her whole body angled towards Cat, and smiled at her with the same open adoration she’d given Cat as an undergrad. The song ended and for a heartbeat Cat was back in her first office during one of those shimmering, precarious moments when she’d catch Kara smiling at her and Kara would catch her smiling back. Even then, pretending not bask in Kara’s devotion, Cat had known she was in trouble. 

“I forgot how you are totally incapable of staying still,” Cat snapped, grabbing Kara’s wiggling knee.

“I hadn’t.” Kara’s grin didn’t waver. “I remember everything about you.”

“Hardly a surprise.”

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” Kara said sullenly. “I went to all the mixers and learned everyone’s names and their partners’ names and their kids’ names. And that was nice, I guess, but then they’d invite me over to their houses for dinner and they’d have real, settled lives. Like splitting the mortgage and furniture from a real store not IKEA lives. And I didn’t really know what to do with that, so I kind of just stopped.”

“You disappeared.”

“Yeah.”

“Scarecrow,” Cat said fondly.

“You only called me that when there was something I wasn’t good at, “ Kara said.

“I did.”

“You liked it.” She slid the napkin out from under Cat’s glass and started drawing a line graph.

“Very much.” Cat smiled at the hazy memory of the shy, social disaster she had first met.

“There are lots of things I’m not good at,” Kara said hopefully. “Sports.”

Cat laughed.

“How’s Carter?”

“Fine,” Cat said quickly, swallowing against the cold that tightened in her chest whenever someone asked about her son like they wanted something. She finished her whiskey and forced herself to breathe. Kara was bouncing again and Cat squeezed her knee. “He’s fine, he’s amazing and a terror and I’m terrified I’ve already ruined his life.” She had no idea how she was this off-kilter already. “Get me another drink?”

“Sure.” Kara was unsteady out of the booth and Cat watched her carefully as she slipped next to a pair of giant men in leather jackets at the bar. One of them shifted his weight to stare down Kara’s body to her feet then slowly back up and Cat saw red. She was halfway up when Kara turned around, tumbler of whiskey in one hand, and frowned at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” She slumped back against the wall.

Kara wriggled into the booth, close enough that their thighs touched. “Does Carter like outer space?”

“Not that he’s told me,” Cat said. “Everything is horses right now. It’s only a matter of time before he wants a real one.” She had already had a series of panicked text messages from Carter’s sitter that Apostrophe the stuffed horse had temporarily gone missing.

“Oh.”

“Boys can like hoses,” she said sharply, because she’d already heard from his father and her mother that it was too soft an obsession, that he should like planes or volcanoes or dump trucks.

“I know that,” Kara said. “It’s just, I got him a star cluster, I mean I found one, I mean, it’s a long story.” She fiddled with a butterscotch wrapper, smoothing it out on the table so the deep creases shone in the low light. “But I found it the day before his first birthday so I was thinking about him. And you. And I thought he might want to name it. Because right now it’s just Danvers C-9749, but I can change that whenever I want.”

Cat stared across the archipelago of mostly empty tables to where a couple was making out in the booth on the other side of the room. When Kara was still in undergrad and Cat still saw her as a project, she had used her investigative journalism final to create a meticulously documented and entirely ethical expose on why Cat’s funding proposal had not been approved by the research committee. She had dropped it on Cat’s desk at the end of her office hours with the names of the men who had voted against her project highlighted in orange.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Cat had asked, too exhausted and heartsick to notice the desperate hope radiating out of Kara. It would take her another three years to realize Kara hadn’t done it just to prove a point.

“Where were you discovering star clusters?” she asked.

“Keck,” Kara said. “I needed to get away for a while.” She ducked her head down and stilled her own leg self-consciously.

“Well,” Cat said. “I’m sure when Carter’s old enough, he’ll really appreciate his own piece of the galaxy.”

“Not this galaxy actually. But it’s close. And he can call it whatever he wants. It’s really cool,” Kara said hopefully.

“Kara, he’s five.”

She visibly wilted.

“What did you like when you were five?”

“Outer space.”

“Right.”

Kara was looking at her like she was still sliding that expose across the desk, hoping. “I remember where I was the day he was born.”

“Me too,” Cat chuckled. “In fact, that’s probably the one day I’ll always remember better than you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Kara said.

“I didn’t.” The sheer mortification of Kara seeing her so vulnerable during the nebulous reshaping of their relationship probably would have been enough to keep a baby inside her for the rest of her life. “But I wouldn’t have minded you around after.”

“He was there,” Kara said. She refused to look at Cat and started scrawling a series of boxes on a napkin.

“Not for long,” Cat said ruefully. “I told you about it.”

“The timing was off.” Kara didn’t look up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cat picked up her glass and put it back down without drinking. When Kara didn’t answer she said, “What are you doing?”

“Extra credit problem for the pop quiz I’m giving on Thursday.” Which she had probably just created, but Cat humored her. 

“Your poor students.”

Finally Kara grinned up at her. Cat rolled her eyes. “You knew he was out of the picture, I sent you an email – “

“Two emails.”

“Oh god.” Now Cat took the last sip of her whiskey. She had forgotten the second email, the four am, third night of Carter screaming with colic, explosion of helpless misery, past the point of caring that Kara was only twenty four and a student. “I sent you that email, which I never want to think about again, that email, and all you did was leave a humidifier and a book on my porch.”

“It was Nightwood,” Kara said. “It was a message.”

“It could have been Twilight. I hadn’t slept in days.” She could laugh about it now, but didn’t out of respect for wretchedness of that time. “What the hell kind of message did you expect me to get?”

“Do you remember Monica Ellsworth? Comparative literature, wore lots of scarves? She and I, we started going to the movies a lot. And then she invited me back to her house a couple of times,” Kara trailed off and chugged her beer.

In a horrible flash, Cat remembered Monica Ellsworth and her scarves. “Oh, Kara. No.”

“I thought you would have been angry.”

She laughed. “I would have been, but not at you,” she lied. “Monica Ellsworth slept with the entire English department. She was notorious. You should have told me.”

“It didn’t last very long,” Kara said then snorted. “Once she realized I just didn’t want to be alone, we both kind of lost interest. I think we were embarrassed.”

“Kara.”

“It’s fine.” She looked up at Cat, lips pressed tightly together, then went on. “She wasn’t very, you know, interesting. The sex stuff, I mean. Her theories on Rilke were interesting. I didn’t agree with them, but I could get her all wound up and then she’d start screaming about the soul of the artist.” The laugh she’d been holding back finally burst out, loud and totally uninhibited.

“Kara,” Cat said again, feeling so affectionate that the only thing she could be exasperated.

“And then, you know, everything, and then I left.” Kara touched Cat’s empty glass. “More?”

“Please.”

While Kara was up, Cat checked her phone, but there was nothing from her sitter since the last text that Carter was sleeping. She was halfway through her new emails when Kara came skidding back into the booth, splashing beer on to the table and rocking into Cat’s side.

“Watch it,” Cat said gently, rescuing her sloshing whiskey. “So. Since Ellsworth it’s just been a long string of people you got tired of?”

“No. There was a guy when I was in Metropolis with my cousin.”

“Aren’t you just the consummate bisexual,” Cat said.

“Are you asking for personal or professional reasons?” Kara smirked, but faltered when Cat raised an eyebrow.

“Guy in Metropolis?”

“Oh.” Kara tucked her hair behind her ears. She still had the helix piercing she’d gotten while drunk at a New Year’s party. “He was not good. He was bad and I didn’t figure that out for way too long. Scarecrow, huh?”

“That’s not what I – “

“And then there was a girl,” Kara said with too much enthusiasm. “And that was good. As good as we both could be, I think. I won’t tell you who because you know her and I don’t want you to get how you get.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cat said primly, but neither of them laughed. “So I take it you’re not longer with this mutual acquaintance?”

Kara shook her head. “It got too intense. She’s still – we email. And then – “ Her whole body wriggled into a shrug and she looked helplessly at Cat. It took a few long seconds of them staring at each other for Cat to realize she was witnessing one of the rare moments when Kara was lost for words. 

“I know you remember them all,” she said, unable to stop herself.

“Want a list?” Kara said quietly, her face tightening. “Who paid for dinner, who got off, all the important details.”

“No. Yes.” Cat’s head swam and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not that any of this is my business.”

“Yes it is.”

It was like they were trying to burn out a fever, unable to stop until it broke. She felt heat fill her cheeks, sweat prickle in her hairline and saw the flush on the back of Kara’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Kara said.

Cat reached for her glass and felt the repulsive, wet chill of sweat under her arms, soaking her shirt. “Don’t.” She took a large burning gulp. “I think I’ve got the picture. More of the same until the creative writing professor. Creative writing, really, Kara?”

“She was there.”

“Famous last words.”

Kara laughed. Their hands met on the way to still Kara’s twitching leg and Cat felt her shoulders relax. She squeezed Kara’s fingers, leaned back and let go.

“Well, we’ve talked about my child and your sex life, so I guess there’s not much else, is there?” She took a drink, poised for Kara’s streaming rebuttal of all the things they really should talk about, but it didn’t come. When she glanced over the rim of her glass, Kara was sitting very still, her jaw clenched tight, and Cat knew she was trying not to cry.

“Guess not,” Kara said quietly.

Helpless and indignant that of all the things, this was the step too far, Cat stared out into the slowly emptying bar and saw the first real miracle she had ever seen: Jonathon Wallace slipping off his stool and slouching towards the men’s room. Cat nudged Kara and nodded towards him.

“Well, should he see a urologist? Inquiring minds want to know.”

Kara giggled and picked up her pencil. By the time Cat had refilled her beer, she had drawn a scattergram and was blindly stabbing at the napkin. She glanced at Cat, tongue poking between her teeth, lips pulled up in happy concentration, and winked. Cat rolled her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ask Kara about Nightwood, she is Nora and Cat is Robin, but let's be real here, Kara is totally Robin.


	2. The Snow

Kara insisted they both have another whiskey to celebrate and Cat was well and truly drunk by the time last call came and they were forced to abandon the booth.

“Hope you’re not presenting tomorrow,” Kara said when she came back from the bathroom.

“No,” Cat said. She struggled with the dangling sleeve of her jacket, her arm contorting to find the flannel-lined armhole and grumbled when Kara reached over to help settle it over her shoulders. “Someone obviously didn’t read the schedule I forwarded.” 

Kara pulled on the same blue and red knit beanie she’d worn in college and shook her head. “I already knew you were attending. That was enough.”

“Do you ever read my emails?”

“You’ve only sent three since NCIT, so I don’t think you get to sound quite so wounded.” Kara held the door and Cat shuddered against the cold. “Would you like me to recite them? My favorite was the time you said I was astounding and you wished you’d never met me in the same paragraph.” Kara clearly wanted to go on, but Cat reached out and touched the tip of her nose.

“I’m trying to prove a point,” Cat said slowly to keep from slurring. “It would be wonderful if you could at least pretend you can’t remember absolutely everything.”

“Not a chance.” Kara giggled and slipped on a patch of ice. Cat’s arm shot out to grab her and hung on, fingers tight just above her elbow, until they were both still, gasping pale clouds of frozen air. They hovered for a moment listening to the rumble of a car backing up over the snowy parking lot, then Kara broke first and they laughed breathlessly. She took Cat’s hand from her arm and pulled her towards the road away from Cat’s hotel on the other side of town.

“You’re taking me home,” Cat said.

“Yes.” Kara said. Her grip tightened on Cat’s hand like she was worried she’d try to pull away.

“You going to remember this in the morning?”

Kara stopped and stared incredulously in the orange street light.

“Fine.” Cat rolled her eyes. “Does it ever go away?” She held up a hand when Kara opened her mouth to answer. “Have I ever asked you this?”

“I don’t think so, no.” They stared waking again.

“That was careless of me.” Cat had to pay attention to her stumbling feet on the slushy sidewalk and missed whatever look Kara gave her. “So never when you’re drunk, never, oh god, please don’t say sex.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Cliché.”

“I can’t help it,” Kara yelped. “It doesn’t stop, like I still remember everything after, but it gets softer for a little while. Like there’s only what’s in front of me instead of everything else.”

They were quieter after that, the cold chasing the alcohol’s warmth away. After several blocks, Kara stopped them on the edge of an anonymous, snowy field striped with foot prints.

Cat waited for some kind of explanation of the view’s significance, but when nothing came she turned to look at Kara. Her profile was mostly silhouetted in the dim light. Only the perpetual apple of her cheek and the hair sticking out below her hat shone faintly gold. In that moment, the unremarkable curve of her unremarkable nose was astonishing and Cat, who had seen too many awe-inspiring things to count, couldn’t explain why this moment topped the list. With an icy sigh, Kara turned to meet her gaze, her eyes narrowing. Cat couldn’t stop herself from wondering if Kara was really seeing her or just layers of all the other times they’d stared at each other that Kara had never forgotten.

“You’re not happy here,” Cat said.

Kara scoffed sadly. “I’m not happy. Here doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

Cat didn’t have anything to say to that. She had reached the point of drunkenness where everything was solemn and irrevocable so she gazed back out on the field and waited for something to happen. Eventually Kara pointed towards a set of buildings, glowing grey against the dark purple of the clouds and said,

“My office is in there.”

She had no idea which building Kara was talking about, but couldn’t bring herself to ask. Even at night, from several blocks away, she could tell they were all made of concrete and heinously ugly, nothing like the intricate facades of the academic buildings she had loved and didn’t let herself miss. But these could have been made of twigs and mud, Cat longed for them so desperately that her vision blurred with jealousy. The dark, awful part of her that she was too drunk to silence erupted in the back of her throat as bile and she had to grit her teeth to keep from gagging on the horrible, vindictive wish that Kara’s success would come at a price the way hers had. As soon as she tasted it on her molars, shamed coursed through her so hot and terrible that sweat broke out under her scarf. Kara shifted next to her and Cat felt so protective that she reached out and took her arm.

“Come on.” She ignored Kara’s surprised, pleased look and steered them back down the road. “These pants make my ass look great, but my legs are freezing.”

“They really do,” Kara said.

Cat nudged her and turned away to hide her smile. She nodded indulgently when Kara pointed out a colleague’s house and a tree where an owl had nested that past spring.

“Are you happy?” Kara asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be,” Cat said automatically. “I have an empire that’s only getting bigger, an exciting, if mildly aggravating job, a reasonably competent assistant, nothing on you, of course.” She patted Kara’s wrist, but Kara didn’t laugh. “A precocious son and more money then I know what to do with. I’m overjoyed.”

“Okay, Cat,” Kara said. She took a breath, but Cat cut her off.

“Oh, Kara. I know what you’re going to say and I just don’t want to hear it, okay? In fact, I don’t even want to think about it. Because then I’m going to have to leave and who knows who I’m going to get back to my hotel because I don’t think they have cabs at this hour in the middle of nowhere. Does Uber even exist here?” She held her breath and waited for Kara’s anxious pity to drown her.

“I was just going to say we’re here.”

Kara had stopped them in front of a small two-story bungalow with a porch and wide, snowy eves, set back from the road by a yard. Cat’s breath caught on the charm of the whole scene.

“About time,” she said. “This is surprisingly nice, Kara.”

“I rent.”

“Clearly.”

Kara snorted and led them down the icy path. 

“You should think about getting some salt or you’re going to have a lawsuit on your hands,” Cat said, clinging to Kara.

“I won’t let you fall,” Kara said and promptly slipped on the front step. Cat tried to catch her but she landed on the porch with a thud.

“Kara?” For a second she worried, but when Kara tilted her head back, she was shaking with laughter. “Was that to prove a point?”

“Your face,” Kara gasped. She reached out and her snowy, gloved hand just touched Cat’s hip.

“What?” Cat said, trying not to smile. She rocked forward until Kara’s hand curved around her waist.

“It’s a good face.”

Cat smirked. 

“No.” Kara was giggling again. “No, no, it’s like – “ She exhaled loudly and slowly drooped until her forehead pressed against Cat’s abdomen. It was a barely-there feeling through the layers of coat and sweater, but Cat couldn’t breathe.

“It’s like,” Kara said again. “I see your face and then I remember my way back again.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Cat said gently. She curled one hand around the nape of Kara’s neck, under her beanie, holding her close.

“Do you remember the interview you did when you announced the show was going to become a magazine?”

“Just a little.” It remained one of the most exhilarating things she’d ever done. Kara ignored her.

“I didn’t really watch your show because it was too much like chopping onions for hours. Although one time my roommate was watching it in the other room and I listened to it while I was making tea. You were interviewing Terry Castle, you sounded really good. That made me happy.”

“Kara.” She squeezed Kara’s shoulder, which twitched then relaxed.

“Sorry. Well, I saw the magazine interview and it was the first time I’d really, actually seen you since I left NCIT. I saw your face and I knew we were going to see each other again. I didn’t know how I was going to feel about it, but I knew it was going to happen.” She shrugged. “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“Thank you.” 

“I see your face and then I don’t need to remember what safe is like.”

It was as if something had wrapped around Cat’s chest and was squeezing hard. “I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

Kara tilted her head and stared up at Cat. Even in the dim light, her eyes still shone blue. There were two dull, wet tracks down her cheeks. She sniffed.

“My butt is numb.”

“You have the keys.”

They held on for another moment. Cat didn’t know if she was pulling Kara in or if Kara was pushing closer, then Kara grunted as she stood and Cat carefully picked her way up the steps.

Compared to the frigid night air, it was wonderfully warm inside. By the time Cat finished unwrapping her scarf, Kara had turned on a small table lamp. She stood next to the worn, beige couch and shrugged at the space.

“This is nice,” Cat said because she was supposed to.

“I’m sorry it’s not cleaner,” Kara said. “If I’d known you were coming, it would have been cleaner.”

“It’s fine.” Cat rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m known for my high and exacting standards.”

Kara scowled at her and Cat laughed.

“Shhh,” Kara mashed a finger to Cat’s lips and made no effort to lower her voice. “Eve’s asleep.”

“Who the hell is Eve?” Cat said, equally loud.

“My roommate,” Kara said pointedly. “I told you there wasn’t anyone. I don’t lie.”

They both froze, both remembering the time one time Kara had lied. Kara dropped her hand from Cat’s face and shoved it in her pocket.

“We should drink water.”

She pivoted into the darkness and Cat saw her push through a swinging door and flick on a light. There was a glimpse of kitchen appliances before the door swung shut again and Cat was alone. She took her time unzipping her coat and draping it across the back of the couch. When she pushed the kitchen door open, Kara was leaning against the sink clutching a mostly-empty glass of water. She held a second out to Cat.

“You should drink at least four of these.”

“If I drink more than two, I will throw up.” She took it and looked around the surprisingly well-furnished room. “Is that a bread maker?”

“My roommate likes to cook.”

“Apparently.”

The fridge was neatly covered in recipes clipped from magazines, held up by NASA space shuttle magnets. Tucked behind a recipe for vegan potstickers with miso glaze was a picture of Kara and her sister beaming in front of a pyramid. Cat touched it.

“How is she? Alex, right?” Kara’s sister had always been a little wary around Cat, but even now, Cat couldn’t really blame her.

“Good,” Kara said. “Really good. Getting married this summer.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s been pretending she hates all the planning, but she loves this organizing, detail stuff. She’s been bossing everyone around since September.” Kara refilled her glass.

By the time Kara had graduated the second time, Cat had known all of her tells, but now, still drunk in the middle of the night, she had to ask. “How do you feel about it?”

“It’s fine,” Kara said firmly and Cat knew she was trying to mean it. “This is what Alex needs. And Maggie’s cool. That’s her fiancée, she’s gay now. And she’s so happy, like seriously happy. I’ve never seen her this at peace. That’s what’s important.”

“So you’re not attached at the hip anymore?” Cat asked.

“You weren’t the only person I left at NCIT,” Kara said softly and chugged the rest of her water.

“I guess not.”

“There’s something I never knew, I mean.” Kara sighed wetly into her empty glass. “How did you find out I’d resigned? Who told you?” 

“Your aunt called me.” Cat thought back and grimaced. “Accused of me making you do it, actually.”

“That’s not surprising.” Kara’s face contorted into something ugly and she pressed herself back into the sink. “She tried the same thing with me.”

“Just when I thought nothing could add insult to that injury.” Cat tried to laugh but it came out more like a sob. “You should never have done sometime like that for me. They still had so much to offer you and you just threw it away.”

“It was worth it.” Kara smiled.

“It accomplished nothing,” Cat snapped.

“Still worth it.”

“I would never have forgiven myself if I’d ruined you,” Cat said through the lump in her throat.

“You wouldn’t have – “ Kara went still, staring past Cat. “You’ve never said that before.”

“It was meant to be inferred,” Cat huffed, blinking furiously.

Kara carefully put her glass on the counter, shuffled closer, and gently kissed Cat’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh darling.” She patted Kara’s elbow. “That much has always been infinitely clear.”

“Oh. Well, good.”

She let Kara refill her glass for the second time. “I was serious about throwing up.”

“That’s to take with you,” Kara said. She pulled Cat back into the living room and up the stairs. “Eve.” She nodded at a closed door and pushed open the one at the end of the hall.

Kara’s room was at the corner of the house with windows on two walls. There was a messy bed under one, the nebula-patterned duvet pulled back over stripped sheets. A small table sat next to the bulky wooden dresser in the corner and by the other window was a rocking chair half-covered by a fleece blanket. Cat tried not to stare as Kara rooted around in her dresser. She felt a flash of the drunken giddiness that had been lost on the walk through the snow and snorted. Kara stiffened.

“Like I said, I would have cleaned.”

“It’s fine,” Cat said. “I live with a five year old. It’s just, how long have you wanted to get me in your bedroom.”

“Don’t,” Kara said. “That’s not what happens next.”

“What happens next?”

“You put these on.” She pressed a bundle of clothes into Cat’s torso. Cat grabbed her wrist, holding them together.

“Okay.”

“You put these on,” Kara said like they were magic words. “And sleep in my bed and I sleep on the couch and in the morning we see how everything looks.”

Cat heard the way Kara’s voice caught on the word morning and saw how her lower lip was thrust forward, desperately determined. She put her glass of water on Kara’s desk.

“I’m going to swim in anything you own,” she said.

“You’ll look cute,” Kara said.

“I know.” Cat squeezed Kara’s fingers and they broke apart. 

“Okay,” Kara said firmly. “Well, that’s the bed, so.”

“Kara?”

“Yeah?”

They stared at each other. Cat made a decision. “That’s it?”

Kara grinned. She cupped Cat’s face and pulled close. It was chaste. Kara’s lips were chapped and her breath reeked of beer, but Cat still shivered at the thrill of the way they fit together.

“I’m downstairs if you need anything,” Kara said, kissing at the corner of her mouth.

“I’ll be fine.” Cat said. She nudged Kara out the door and stood, hand still on the door knob, held in place by her racing heart. Even after four years of a job she created and a son who loved her, she still had to struggle with the deep-rooted fear that if she didn’t grab what she wanted with both hands, it would be taken from her.

She heard a toilet flush somewhere down the hall and forced herself to let go of the door. There were still no new messages when she checked her phone and she slid it on to the bedside table next to a copy of The Fifth Season. Unable to stop herself, she looked around the room. On the desk next to a messy stack of papers covered in numbers was a framed photo of Kara and her foster family in front of a white dome that Cat recognized as the Keck observatory.  
Behind that, mostly hidden in the back corner, was a picture of her and Kara at one of Kara’s graduation. They both looked younger and healthier; Cat’s hair was longer with a sweep of bangs across her forehead that she now thought looked immature. Kara was beaming into the camera, her arm around Cat’s shoulders, while Cat was showing just the right amount of teeth for a photographer she didn’t know. Cat sighed, wincing at the certainty that Kara probably remembered every other time they’d looked at each other, but this was the picture she had for her desk. She carefully put the picture back where she’d found it. 

The door opened and Kara was back.

“I forgot pajamas,” she said, looking utterly lost.

“I thought you didn’t forget anything,” Cat said gently.

“Shut up.”

Kara’s breath was all mint toothpaste now. She licked into Cat’s mouth and bit her bottom lip. Cat gasped, grabbing a handful of Kara’s soft knit sweater to yank them together. Kara grunted at the impact, her hands falling to Cat’s hips, over her ass and under her blouse. Cat shuddered against her.

“Cat.” Kara let her head drop to rest of Cat’s shoulder, her breath loud in Cat’s ear.

“I know.” Cat kissed her temple. They stood pressed together for a long moment until Kara smoothed her hands down Cat’s back and deliberately put some distance between them.

“There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom if you want.”

Cat nodded. “Get some sleep.”

“Good night.” Kara ducked her head, but didn’t kiss her again. The door shut quietly behind her.

Cat put on the pajamas, soft flannel sweats and a grey NCIT t-shirt that Kara had probably had since undergrad, and cautiously peered out into the hall. The light was still on in the bathroom; the spare toothbrush, still in its wrapper, was neon green. She poked through the mirror cabinet and used something cucumber mint that was definitely not Kara’s to wash her face.

The hard wood of the hallway was cold even through her socks and she paused at the top of the stairs before carefully padding down. The lamp by the couch was still on and Kara was sprawled out on her back. Even in her sleep she could not be still, there were tiny, jerking tremors from her fingers up into her arms like she was trying to grip some unseen thing that was constantly slipping away. She’d put on weight since Cat had known her as a student, a softness from inactivity or unhappiness, Cat couldn’t tell. Cat reached for her, wanting to shake her awake and scold her for letting herself settle anywhere she wouldn’t thrive. Instead she grabbed the incongruously lavender throw folded over the arm of the couch, tucked it carefully around Kara, and went upstairs to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I think Cat Grant and Terry Castle in a room together would be hilarious.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. The Morning After

The couch was empty when Cat came downstairs the next morning, the lavender blanket kicked to one end and left in a tangled knot. Cat tutted softly and refolded it. 

She had woken to a quiet, but not, she could sense, an empty house. Muffled echoes of occupancy gently lifted her from sleep in Kara’s surprisingly comfortable bed. Eventually a shower had started down the hall and she’d forced herself up. It had been a long time since she’d wandered through someone else’s house in clothes from the night before, but she could smell coffee and decided to ignore the awkwardness. 

There was a blonde sitting at the breakfast nook when Cat ventured into the kitchen, but when her head popped up, Cat saw it was not Kara. The girl was smaller with a rounder face and sharp blue eyes that got wider the longer they stared at Cat.

“You’re Cat Grant,” she said.

“Last time I checked,” Cat said. “How old are you?”

Eve flushed. “Twenty three.”

“Okay.” Cat only let her squirm for a moment. “Please tell me there’s still hot coffee left.”

“Yes.” Eve leapt up. “Would you like anything else? We have – “ She rattled off a surprisingly long list before running out of steam and staring helplessly at Cat.

“I’m fine with coffee, thanks.”

There was a second flurry of activity as Eve filled a teal CatCo-branded mug. “That’s Kara’s,” Eve said with a hint of a grin, but then her face fell again. “Did you want cream and sugar?”

“Black is fine.” Cat took a hesitant sip. It was some musty generic brand. She wondered how Kara would take getting a package of a higher quality blend.

“So,” Eve said.

“So.” Cat stared at her. “Straight into a master’s program after undergrad, huh?”

“MBA.”

“Good for you,” she said. “What’s your focus?”

“Media and communications,” Eve said, resolutely meeting Cat’s gaze. Cat tried not to smirk.

“Well, it’s a boy’s club, but I’m sure you already knew that.” Eve nodded. “We could certainly use more women around,” Cat said. This time Eve did look away and smile into her coffee, her cheeks tinting pink.

Cat pulled out her phone, read the seven text messages from Carter’s sitter assuring her that he’d gotten safely to daycare, and wondered how long it would take for Eve to start asking questions. She got a third of the way through her assistant’s daily briefing email.

“I saw your talk on journalistic integrity and national consciousness yesterday,” Eve said as she began spooning white crests of yogurt into a bowl.

Cat blinked and put down her phone.

“I thought was good.”

“Thank you.”

“You never talk like that for CatCo.”

“Well, as someone who wants to manage media corporations should know,” Cat said. “The CatCo demographic isn’t there for academic papers.”

“I know,” Eve said. She opened the fridge and pulled out a clear plastic tub of blueberries. Cat caught a glimpse of Kara grinning from the fridge door. “I just did a presentation on how you have one of the best brands in the business.”

“Do I?”

Eve stared at her and Cat allowed herself a satisfied smirk. She wondered where Kara had found this surprisingly self-possessed roommate.

“Did you have fun with that talk?” Eve asked.

“What?”

“It looked like you did.” She shook her colander of rinsed blueberries and began dropping them one by one into the yogurt. “You had them hanging on everything you said by the time you finished your intro. I can only imagine what you were like as a teacher.”

“I was excellent,” Cat said. The words felt like stale gum in her mouth.

After a moment Eve smiled guilelessly at her. “I washed too many blueberries. Do you want some?”

Cat couldn’t think of a reason to say no, she probably needed the antioxidants.

“You’ve only done two conferences since you left NCIT,” Eve said.

“Did you do the presentation on me or my brand?” Cat said sharply.

“No, sorry.” Eve slid the bowl across the table like a peace offering. “Never mind.”

“No, no.” Cat popped a berry in her mouth. “Go on.”

“I just meant. You’re so good at this and you hardly ever do it anymore. This one must have been really special. You must have missed it a lot.” Eve took a huge bite of yogurt, her cheeks glowing.

Cat carefully slid her mug to the side and drew herself up, ready to tell this twenty-three year old just how wrong she was when the words Kara’s roommate flashed in her mind. She tried to smile.

“So. How’d you meet Kara?”

By the time Kara wandered in with wet hair, wearing an argyle sweater that Cat hated on principle, she’d gotten the entire story of how Kara had rescued Eve from a smarmy post doc at a media studies mixer by quoting the letters of Martha Gelhorn at him and then dropping a shrimp cocktail in his solo cup of Bud Light.

“What were you doing at a media studies event?” Cat asked.

Kara smiled blandly. “I like to keep up.”

Cat rolled her eyes, but Kara continued to beam at her. There was a definite clink as Eve put her bowl in the sink.

“Well, it was really nice meeting you,” she said in a rush. “I should get going.”

“Hey,” Kara said. “You still have you meeting with Maynard at ten? Want me to drive you?”

“Oh.” Eve had clearly forgotten. “Yeah, that’d be great.” She nodded at Cat again and fled.

“Okay.” Kara frowned. “Usually Eve’s pretty unflappable. Did something happen?”

“I was just myself.”

“Mhmm.” Kara stared at her, then her mouth, then back up and grinned. “Sleep okay?”

“I did. How was the couch?”

“Surprisingly comfy.”

Kara made more coffee and they drank it in sunny silence.

“So,” she said once she’d put their empty mugs in the sink. “How do things look in the morning?”

“You tell me,” Cat said. “This was your idea.”

Kara’s face fell. “I didn’t want us to have sex just because we never got the chance back then. I didn’t want it to be that.”

“Jesus Christ, Kara.” 

“I’m also not sure you’re forgiven me yet.”

“I’m not sure either,” Cat snapped, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again Kara was grimacing at her. “Have you forgiven me?”

Kara’s mouth dropped open. “I was never mad at you. I was mad for you.”

Cat reached for her hand and tugged them closer. “For someone so smart, you had a terrible way of showing it.”

“I wanted to be your hero,” Kara mumbled, rubbing gently at Cat’s side.

“You already were, you idiot.”

Kara ducked her head towards Cat’s, but the door behind them swung open and they swung apart with it.

“Sorry.” Eve glared at them, flushing bright pink.

Kara chuckled sheepishly. “Can I give you a ride back to your hotel?”

The icy roads were mostly empty and Kara drove slowly to Eve’s building. Before getting out, Eve turned around in her seat to tell Cat that she was a huge source of inspiration and she should wear more jewel tones. Kara managed not to laugh until Cat had moved up to the front seat and they were pulling out of the parking lot.

“Let me know when she graduates,” Cat said. “If she can still look me in the eye, I’ll hire her.”

“Eve’s great. She makes me eat vegetables and doesn’t mind when I ruin detective shows.” Kara grinned.

She let Kara chatter most of the way there, rattling off mostly useless background on what felt like every landmark. Finally when they’d passed the fourth corner where Kara had seen a cute dog one time, Cat reached across the console and squeezed her thigh hard. 

“You’re not happy and here has everything to do with it. Well, maybe not everything,” she conceded to Kara’s skeptical glance. “But it’s just the kind of hard-headedness I can’t stand to just write off your surroundings entirely.”

Kara harrumphed and nodded towards a coffee shop that had good blueberry scones. “I’m doing good here,” she said. “No one else can keep up with my pace.”

“Do you know how miserable I was in Metropolis?”

“I thought you loved Metropolis,” Kara said.

“I thought I did, I was thriving.” Cat waved her hand flippantly. “But I don’t think I could breathe until I got back to National City.”

Kara pulled until the snowy Marriott parking lot and shut off the car. She was chewing her lip, clearly thinking, her leg shaking under the steering wheel.

“I should shower before the lunch session,” Cat said as gently as she could. She unbuckled her seat belt and had reached for the door when Kara stopped her. 

“Why did you come to this conference anyway? You think they’re insipid.”

Cat snorted. “Come on, dear, you’re a certified genius.”

“My feelings haven’t changed,” Kara said.

“I know.” Cat’s heart, suddenly painfully loud, thudded in her ears and she had to swallow hard at the lump in her throat. She out of the car and Kara followed her.

“Kara – what I said that day before I left.”

They both winced. “I remember,” Kara said.

“Well, forget it.”

“I can’t,” Kara said quietly. Cat’s racing heart stopped so fast that it took her breath away. “But I could remember some new things.”

Cat swayed on her feet and had to look away to center herself, hope leaping desperately in her chest. When she looked up again, Kara was grinning at her like she already knew all the answers and she’d just been waiting for Cat to catch up.

“Oh don’t look so smug,” Cat snapped, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “You know it’s not that easy. I have a big, busy, complicated life now. A life that is never just mine.”

“I don’t,” Kara said.

“Fine.” Cat leaned against the side of the car. “Then the next time you’re in National City, you can take me out to dinner.”

“Next weekend?”

Cat raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to be in National City next weekend?”

“If you’re free.” Kara sidled closer, her hands resting on Cat’s hips.

“Only if it’s a nice restaurant, not another dive bar.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward, but Cat pressed a finger to her lips.

“Cloth napkins, Kara.”

“I promise.” Her whole body was vibrating with nervous energy, but she just kissed Cat softly and stepped back. “See you soon.”

“Don’t forget.”

Kara laughed and wiggled her fingers as she got back in the car. The last time she’d known Kara, Cat had thought they’d been passing stars on separate orbits. They’d both had to reinvent themselves for her to realize she was wrong. Kara would always be landing while Cat was still teaching herself to fly. She squinted into the sunlight, regretting her lack of sunglass, as Kara pulled out of the snow parking lot and on to the open road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming along on this weird ride!


End file.
